The Song
by Southern Dandy
Summary: The War rages, the invasion has been repelled, filling the north sea with dead soldiers. One soldier clings to life. His story begins as others end, dragging others into a symphony of death, birth, rebirth. The song that stretches cross the ages.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: The Black

The boy ran along the docks as fast as his short legs could carry him, running up the stony quay past the old men that spent their mornings fishing with long bamboo rods. Running past the wives and daughters as they gutted the early morning catch, hair tied up beneath scarves to keep the sweat from their eyes and the blood from their hair. Some watched him run, pausing in the early morning work with large knives still in their hands. They'd take the time to wipe the sweat from their foreheads, a small respite from gruelling and repetitive work.

But the boy paid them no mind as he ran past, his feet pounding across the stone. Soon he crossed on to the pier, stone giving way to wet wooden planks that clattered beneath his feet. Almost there, down at the end of the long pier he could see a crowd thick with excitement. A boat was moored, one of the old wooden slopes used by the poor fishermen. It shouldn't be back yet, usually they came in only at sundown or even late evening, never this early. It was his father's boat and Uncle Hiro was standing there on the deck of the ship with his cap in his hands, a nervous expression on his face. When he saw his young nephew come running it changed to panic.

The boy pushed through the crowd, a mix of townsfolk with nothing better to do and his father's crew. They gave way grudgingly to the child, so keen were they to find out what was going on. The crew made more than enough space for him, one even going so far as to haul a man out of his path. Once the boy was there, once he was by the ship he could only stare.

The men had patched up his father best they could, binding his wounds with strips of sail cloth, but his right arm was all in tatters. By rights it could no longer be called an arm so badly was it eviscerated. The binding across the old sailor's chest was stained dark then the rest of the brown cloth, so dark and wet. The old man's eyes were closed, his face drawn and grey. Jee had seen a dead man once, when he had been six. A beggar that had died in one bad winter, his body found in the street. The old man, his father, looked much like that beggar now save he still drew laboured breaths.

Uncle Hiro leapt over from the boat to the pier, landing beside his nephew in a crouch. Doffing his cap he placed a hand to the boy's shoulder and directed his eyes upward. Hanging from the mast was a net, and within that net was a long serpentine figure. All coiled up as it was it filled out the net impressively, its head hanging out from its side, a thick tongue lolling from its draconic jaws. A sea serpent, a young one, its dead yellow eyes glared down at the boy filling him with a quiet dread.

"Your father killed it when it killed him," his uncle said, not bothering to blunt his words. Drawing something from behind his back he pressed the hilt of a dagger into the boy's hand. "This is the knife he did it with, cut it open at the soft bit beneath its jaw," pushing the boy away he pointed to his brother, "Go say farewell now, he doesn't have long."

Nodding nervously the boy tucked the knife into the rope he wore around his waist. Walking cautiously over to his father the men that carried him settled him down and stepped away. A little privacy at this time, they became a small island in a sea of people, just him and his dad. Kneeling down the boy clutched the man's only remaining hand. Big, calloused and scarred, he thought about the night before when those hands had smoothed his hair right as he drifted off to sleep, right before his father had left with his crew. Strong hands, it now lay limp in his smaller, soft hands.

Tears welled in his eyes as his father's breathing began to slow. He hoped that he might awaken, just for a moment. To say something now, something reassuring, a tale or proverb to give him comfort. But he said nothing. He didn't wake. Instead his ragged breathing slowed until it stopped, and his face slackened a little. He was dead.

It was like hot claws tearing at the boy's stomach. Hot, angry and confused. It was a little beast eating him from within. Standing, he wobbled uncertainly. The planks felt unsteady, or maybe it was just him. Walking a little, past his uncle, Jee jumped head long into the ocean, his plummet accompanied by the cries of onlookers. But he didn't care, couldn't, he just wanted to put out that hot fire burning in his stomach. He drifted in the sea face down, drifted in the black.

Drifting in the black, he looked about him. There was nothing to be seen, nothing but the inky darkness and strange pale shapes drifting like he was in the distance. Twirling slowly, limply, the pale faces shone in the darkness. He couldn't be sure if they were drifting up or down, he couldn't tell which way was up or down, but they moved slowly in every direction, without purpose. He recognized some faces faintly, men he had drunk with, laughed with, fought with.

They stared at him with large dead eyes, faces slack. Slowly he remembered where he was, the northern ocean, with Zhao's fleet. For a moment he had been elsewhere. Drifting as he was Jee gave a kick, pushing upward. It was useless, he was being pulled downward by the ocean itself, pulled down deeper into the black with the dead. It was his armour. Heavy plate, it was a boon on the battlefield but in the water it meant his death. Reaching for his belt Jee drew a dagger and cut at the straps that secured the heavy armour to his body. It was slow going and he hadn't the time. Holding his breath as best he could he sawed through the leather until it sprang free. One strap, but there were three more for the chest plate.

A new shape was in the water, weaving through the bodies, a long, serpentine shape. It ignored the dead as it moved, like a snake weaving its way across a rock. Its head was as large as his chest, its body as long as a ship, but it was thin, it was young. It saw Jee thrashing in the water, desperately trying to gain freedom from the armour that weighed him. Moving with a predatory swiftness it came upon him, large jaws opening to seize him.

Jee looked into those golden eyes and terror seized him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: The Serpent

Winding its way through the inky black the serpentine monster came for him, its jaws open to expose long, needle like teeth and a thick tongue. Its eyes glowed with an unearthly light, two golden orbs that seemed to illuminate its large draconian face. Terror gripped Jee, smothered him, froze his limbs in place. It came onward, speed picking up, winding around the dead bodies that sprawled like marionettes from slackened strings in its wake.

It came, jaws reaching out to seize him, rip him apart and swallow him up. It came to make a meal out of him. But Jee was ready. His knife in hand Jee pulled himself downward, allowing his own weight to carry him from the serpent's path. Free hand lashing out he caught the creature around the neck, his hand slipping into the fold of its gills, digging into the soft flesh beneath the hard scales.

If sound could carry in the black he might have heard the creature scream as his fingers dug deep into the soft spot. But he heard nothing. He did however feel its long, powerful tail come around. It knocked him in the chest, smashing precious air from his lungs in great bubbling mouthfuls. It was a death sentence as much as those fangs were. Already his head began to burn from the loss of oxygen, water filling his mouth though luckily not his throat.

He didn't give up his grip however, even as the monster tried to coil around him. Kicking desperately he clutched at its back, hand digging into the gills in the side of its neck, inky black blood streaming out as his powerful fingers ripped its soft grey flesh. Pulling up along the slick, long tendril of a body he smashed at its scales with his knife. It was an impotent gesture, the steel bounced harmlessly off its plates. It didn't matter, with the damage he had done to the monster's gills it would die soon as well. Mutual destruction, both would drown regardless of the others actions.

But the serpent was still intent on killing Jee, and Jee was ever the firebender. They wrestled a moment longer, man against monster, twisting and thrashing in the black. Jee's grip came loose in all the thrashing and he took a blow around the head from the beast's tail, knocking the wits out of him. It came on as if it had victory, jaws opening wide. Grabbing the upper jaw with his free hand, cutting his fingers on the jagged teeth, and placing his right foot on its lower jaw, the fangs tearing into his boot, Jee twisted in a most complex and painful way. Planting his knife in the flesh just beneath the monster's jaw Jee kicked away, the jaw snapping closed behind him. Gripping the hilt he used it as an anchor, swirling around as he dragged the blade down the soft part that lay just beneath the creature's maw. Black blood came issuing forth, blinding him as he sawed at the creature's neck. It billowed out from the monster's mouth as its jaws slackened, the blood darkening an already dark sea.

Dead, but then so was Jee, or as good as. There was no hope of reaching the surface, though after such strange combat he had no notion of which way the surface was. So he stopped and floated in the dark, surrounded by the twisted body of the serpent, scales glistening so prettily, his red blood mingling with the creature's black. Opening his mouth he let the sea water in, filling his lungs. If he was to die he was glad it would be like this. He was glad it was at sea, a good death, a death befitting both a soldier and a sailor.

Head burning his vision began to dim. Death was coming for him now. He fancied a moment that he could see it, a big black shape larger than any he had seen come drifting towards him from the great depths. The size of an island almost.

It was hard to think now but in those confused dying thoughts he felt a wonder fill him as that black shape came closer. Light shone off it a moment and it shone a brilliant bronze like the buckle on his belt, like the gold of his armour. A great bronze figure, so magnificent. He closed his eyes as it embraced him.

"Sleep now Jee," Its voice was like raw power, filling him with ecstasy, "Rest, while you are still able,"

* * *

Birds. The sound of birds. It was a familiar one to him, sea birds cawing shrilly in the predawn. He had awoken to that sound nearly every day of his life. From the sound of these birds they were most likely fighting over a tasty bit of meat. It only occurred to him after a dim moment that he might be that meet. Opening his eyes slowly the first thing to greet him was a rush of pain. His eyes burned against the harsh light of day, his chest burned as if it had been bent inward, crushing the organs within. His hand throbbed. Generally speaking every part of him was awash with pain.

It felt good.

Good and very confusing. As his eyes adjusted to the light he tried to sit up. It hurt, moving even an inch hurt, but he managed to pull his body upright enough to get a glance at his surroundings. Dark, gritty rocks, the ebb and flow of waves. He looked to be on an island, one of the more miserable and lonely ones that could be found all across the north. The sun hammered down from overhead, telling him well and truly that winter was at an end. Good, he never was one for the cold anyway.

The birds he had heard fighting were some distance from him. They were squabbling over the carcass of the serpent, jabbing back and forth at one another with their beaks. The serpent lay sprawled across the sand looking very small. It wasn't as large as Jee had thought, twisted up as it was it barely spanned the length of three men let alone a full ship. The hilt of his dagger, his father's dagger, jutted out from its throat. It was good to see it there.

Standing slowly he felt the world rock around him. It was as if the entire world were a ship in unsteady waters, the ground seemed to be continually shifting beneath his feet like the deck of a fishing boat. Still it didn't bother him much. He'd been working a ship since he was a boy, he'd been born with sea legs.

Still he took it slow, walking cautiously towards the monster's corpse. His approach sent the seagulls flying, giving loud protest as he reached down and pried his dagger from the soft flesh. It was stained with thick black blood and he had to wipe it clean upon his trouser leg before sheathing it. He was glad to have been carrying it. Most other firebenders never bothered with weapons.

Looking about at his surroundings he saw a copse of trees up upon the high bank. Shade would be welcome, as would fresh water. As he staggered up the pebbled beach with his chest plate half-hanging off, his entire body burning with pain and soaking wet, he found that he was chuckling softly. If you say one thing about Jee and one thing only, say he's a survivor.

Most people didn't have the stomach to eat bird, save for chicken and turkey, but Jee had no objections. Seagull and chicken were much the same in some respects, though right now he'd have preferred a nicely toasted rat, you ate what you could on campaign, and thanked the spirits it wasn't boot leather.

No expert chef the seagull was burned to a crisp on the outside, but the meat on the inside was filling if a little stringy. With a small spring of fresh, cool water nearby for him to drink from he felt like he had a banquet fit for the Fire Lord.

Not half a day had passed since he had washed up on the shore of this little island and he was already doing well for himself. The copse of trees covered the entire centre of the island providing more than enough shade from the overhead sun and more than enough fuel to keep a good sized fire going. The battered old chest plate he wore served as a good frying pan to set the bird meat upon and he sat close to it, warming up as best he could. Strips of his trousers had been used to bandage his cut up hand and foot, and though he felt as if a couple of his ribs were fractured if not broken the warm fire did much to ease that pain.

With nothing to do but sit, eat and wait for some kind of rescue Jee found he had a lot of time to reflect on things. Things he'd much rather not think on. Things like the circumstances of his arrival on that grim little stretch of gravel and rock. He did his best to keep it out of his mind, to think on other things, but when there wasn't much else to do besides navel gazing it seemed quite impossible.  
He should be dead, dead alongside the rest of the crew. He'd seen most of them floating down there, like peculiar fish drifting in an alien sea. He'd considered them friends, sailed with them for who knew how long. Then they'd been killed like nothing, like ants being stamped out by that furious monster. It had come on so sudden, struck down in a monstrous display of raw power. He'd only caught a glimpse of that thing before they were submerged.

It occurred to him that he was starting to shake and not from the cold. He'd fought many a battle in his day, on land and sea, but he'd never seen such a careless obliteration of so many lives before. The fire was no comfort now as the faces of his dead comrades came flashing through his mind. It was a long list, stretching back his entire career. Twenty years he'd served in the navy, man and boy. He'd gone from a seaman all the way up to lieutenant, with no help along the way save natural ability. How many men could claim as much, especially those of as low birth as him?

Not many, none that lived to tell of it at least. Lived to tell of it. He shouldn't be alive. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't? Maybe he'd died down there in the black, and this was the corner of the afterlife he'd found himself in?

He drew his father's knife and pressed the hilt against his forehead. Stop being stupid Jee all your doing is scaring yourself, he thought ruefully. Dead is dead, he'd know it if he were. He certainly didn't feel dead. Hurt too much to be the afterlife, or at least the afterlife according to the Fire Sages.

He looked up at the sky. Nothing for it but to try and survive, he thought. Afterlife or not, he had no intention of taking chances. With that in mind he lay his head down on the softest tree root he could find. He was tired, and as his uncle had always tried to tell him there was no better healer than a good night's rest.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: The Rescue

Rain washed down on the rocky island, freezing Jee to the bone. The trees gave no shelter, his clothes too ripped and ragged to provide any warmth. He hugged his legs to his chest, shivering like a leaf. It took all his skill with firebending to keep from succumbing to a fever, and though his veins felt as if molten gold were running through them his skin had still become clammy, signs of an oncoming illness. By the time the rain had passed he had lapsed into a feverish state of semi-consciousness.

Only the spirits knew how long he lay in that state, shivering and wet, like a new born babe. What strength remained to him he used to force water down his throat, and managed t crawl down to the serpent corpse. He ripped flesh from under the loosening scales and cooked it in his hand. The first mouthful he threw up, the second he managed to force down.

It was after the shaking had subsided that he saw the lights. Whether they were real or the product of his fevered imagination he couldn't say. They hung in the evening fog, orbs of light travelling slowly across the water.

His uncle had told him stories of spirits that haunted the high seas, dark creatures that lured unwary sailors towards rocky shoals, sometimes with song, sometimes with dancing lights. The sailors would crash on the rocks, ships reduced to splinters. They might drown, might be crushed on the rocks, might starve after days abandoned on some lonely outcrop. Once they were dead however, their fate would be the same. The spirits would fall on their remains and devour their flesh, strip them down to bone then break the bone to drink the marrow. Nothing would remain of the victims save splintered bone, strips of cloth, and the remains of their ships which would become driftwood.

Only the driftwood might return to shore, heavy with the spirits of dead men.

Jee refused to die in such a way.

He staggered to his feet, arms raised. The stance was a basic one, poorly held. Even holding his arms high was a trial, standing was a taxing effort. But he stood defiant, ready.

Voices came muffled through the fog, jumbled words he could barely comprehend. The sound of bodies in water carried across the evening air, the splash of feet through the tide. The orbs of light bobbled and swerved, danced about one another. He heard a low snarl, a bark of laughter. He prepared himself as faintly human shapes formed in the mist, became solid.

Squat, low shapes, they scrambled across the beach clutching long poles. From those poles hung lanterns that bobbed with every movement of the men that carried them. Two men, they came out of the dark bundled up in black and red cloth, thick coats badly patched with faces muffled by scarves. One was held closed by the emblem of the Fire Navy, the other by a cord of rigging.

"Who?" he croaked, voice harsh.

"You hear somethin' Kwon?" the smaller shape asked in a voice thick with a colony accent, "Could have sworn I heard somethin'."

"All I heard was your fartin' Azul, now hold that lantern high 'efore I crack my toe on one o' these damn rocks," his partner barked.

"This is bollocks, we been searchin' every stretch o' rock from east to west to widdershins for two days now, aint no survivors this far south."

"Who goes there?" Jee yelled louder, his throat burning.

"You hear that Kwon?" Azul asked.

"That I did Azul," Kwon replied. "Fire Navy search and rescue!" he yelled back, "Searching for survivors of Admiral Zhao's fleet! Who're you?"

"Lt Jee, of Zhao's Fleet!" he stumbled towards them through the dark, stumbling down the steady slope towards the rocky beach. Halfway there he fell, slid the rest of the way, cutting up his arm as he rolled limply down to their feet. He looked up into large gold eyes, a face shrouded by a length of knotted red cloth.

"Not sure if this one's alive," Azul said, "Looks more like a walkin' corpse."

"It's something at least, it's a ticket back to port," Jee felt strong hands hook under his arms, "Grab his legs, we'll get him back on the boat 'en kick it back to Admiral Liang."

The golden eyes disappeared. Jee felt his legs lifted from the ground. He hung limp as he was carried roughly, chest burning with fever. His vision swam as a smile broke his face. His last thought, before the black claimed him, was one of relief. If nothing else his body had been recovered, he could be buried with honour.

Warm. It was warm as summer, with the heat of the sun washing across his body. On hot days during his childhood Jee would climb onto the roof of his house, sprawl across the rough wooden roof and soak in the sun like a lizard, absorbing the heat into his body. Sometimes his little brothers or cousins would join him but he preferred to do it alone. It felt amazing, it emptied his mind of thought, filled it with the heat of the sun. Everything crept away while he lay there, fear, hate, pain, the future, his mother, his uncle, his brothers, cousins, friends. It was only him and the fire.

That was how he felt now, lying in the darkness, no sound, sight or thought, just the knowledge that he was alive with the fire filling his body.

But it couldn't last.

A door opened, light washed into the room, across the bed he lay in, giving substance to the world around him. He lay in a sailor's cot, covered in thick furs with heated stones wrapped about his body. The cabin was small, bare of decoration save a flag on the wall with the emblem of the Fire Navy embroidered upon it.

Jee turned his head to watch his visitor enter.

A tall woman in a mix or armour and fur slipped in carrying a steaming bowl. The smell of fish broth wafted toward him. His stomach gave a lurch, demanding to be filled. He struggled to sit up, pushing the furs off his body, freeing his arms and chest.

He had been stripped naked, his bare chest covered with sparse grey hair, criss-crossed with old scars. His left nipple was gone, replaced with large burn long since faded. Similar scars covered his arms. The woman drank in his appearance with a look of respect on her face. She crossed the cold iron floor, offered him the bowl.

He took it greedily, his stomach grumbling. Not even bothering with the sticks offered he shovelled the scalding hot food into his mouth, pressing it against his lips. It was plain fare, but after days of nothing but half raw sea serpent and charred seagull it tasted blissfully rich.

The bowl fell from his fingers, clattering on the ground, a punch-drunk expression on his face as he lay back with a contented sigh.

It as then that he noted there was no movement. Even on the largest ironclads the ships would still rock, ever so slightly, creating a subtle rhythm that was like a song hummed through his entire body. Here it was solid, like solid ground.

"You've been out of it for days," the woman said, breaking his contemplation, "The boys thought you were done for."

"Almost was," he said, scrubbing a hand through the thick stubble that had sprouted across his jaw.

"Well you're awake now," she sat cross legged on the floor, face level with his, "Welcome to Pohuai Stronghold."

Pohuai Stronghold was far to the south of the Northern Water Tribe, on the west coast of the Earth Kingdom. He had been out of it for a long time if they had travelled so far south.

"What has happened?" he asked, "The fleet, the war, what has happened?"

A thoughtful expression crossed the woman's face. "A lot," she replied, "Admiral Zhao is missing, presumed dead, the northern fleet is non-existent with survivors only in the handfuls, and Prince Zuko with General Iroh have been declared as traitors with orders sent for their arrest."

A hot jolt of shock ran through his body. Bad news, worse news, with terrible news thrown on top, the most terrible being General Iroh, he had served under the general for years, a decade at least. There was about as much truth to Iroh being a traitor as there was to Fire Lord Ozai being a hog-monkey. And Prince Zuko, the boy was as stubborn as a bull with about as much common sense but he wasn't the sort to betray his country. There was something deeper going on there.

"The war as a whole however is still yielding great progress," the woman continued, "Word has it an assault on Omashu is imminent, a hard fight but one General Bujing is sure we can win."

It was a small relief from the horrible news. "What of the Avatar?" he asked.

Her face turned a shade of grey. "Still at large," she said with a note of horror in her voice. Jee felt a similar sick feeling run through his body. The Avatar was a monster wrapped up in a twelve year old form. He had personally witnessed the power of that beast. An entire fleet, countless lives, snuffed out in an instant. Such a being should not be allowed to exist. Fear mixed with hate ran through his veins, turning his body cold.

"If you would let me inspect you sir," she said, broaching the long silence, "I'll see if you're fit to return to active duty."

He lay back, allowed her to run her hands over his body, inspect him for injury, numb to her ministrations as the weight of all that news came crashing down. Zuko in deeper exile then before, the North Fleet gone, Zhao dead and a new offensive beginning. So much so quickly, with the Avatar looming above it all like a grim spectre. And here he was, trussed up in a cot with a battered body, unable to do anything.

There was nothing for it but to close his eyes, and hope he would be found of sound body, so that he might return to the fight.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry about the slow update. My life is one full of mystery, danger and action. Leaves me little time to write anything, let alone fan fiction.

* * *

Chapter Four: Delirium

Jee was judged fit, fit enough to have the run of the fortress at least. He hadn't been assigned any duties, mostly due to the fact no one knew what to do with him. It wasn't clear just which army or fleet he belonged to, all his immediate superiors had been killed in the north, with most of the records of his reassignment gone with them. The last commander they had him under was Admiral Zhao, before him Prince Zuko, and before that General Iroh.

For that reason he also found few willing to talk with him.

Whenever he would enter the eatery conversations would die, a foreboding silence would develop as he collected his food. Anyone he would try to sit with would find an excuse to leave. It was very juvenile but he couldn't blame them. An aura of bad luck had developed that stuck to him like a bad stench.

One of the few exceptions was the young woman that had inspected him, a sergeant named Zhen. She was in charge of the hospital, heading a corps comprised of doctors and orderlies with little combat training, a duty usually given over to an officer.

"Officers are running a bit thin on the ground," she explained over a cup of hot noodles, "So senior enlisted men are being given their duties. With luck a promotion will follow."

She talked a while about the various tasks that had been building up, dealing with a local outbreak of disease, patching up unruly soldiers, and having to deal with those suffering from burn out. The numbers of burn out victims had been growing recently, men and women that had lost their taste for war, had seen too much, the broken, the insane. Most had no physical injury, but they retreated into a state of catatonia, unresponsive some of the time, violent others. All of the firebenders so afflicted had lost the ability to bend.

Jee had seen a few cases in his time, it was a nasty thing to watch a comrade go through. The decent commanders sent those afflicted back home, the worst had them executed for 'cowardice'. It seemed Colonel Shinu, the commander of the fortress, was more interested in studying the victims, to find a cure for it.

Zhen set him some exercises for the next day, to see if he was ready to return to the field, before seeing him back to his chamber.

They had outfitted him with a larger room with a window. A sparse chamber, it was more befitting his rank of lieutenant then the small cell first given to him.

Moonlight shone through a high window, the night was cloudless, quiet. The lack of noise was disconcerting. It left him filled with a nervous energy. He took to his pallet, tried to sleep, but the lack of noise was more pervasive then the din of a battle.

He tossed, turned, tried to calm his pounding heart. It was useless. He climbed out of his pallet, sweat beginning to form on his brow.

He checked his door made sure it was locked, than shuttered his window.

With the moonlight gone the room was even darker. The dark only added to the feeling of unease building in his chest.

He performed a few basic firebending forms to ease his mind, hoping to get lost in the exercise. When that didn't work he tried to meditate.

"Can't sleep?" a voice asked from above him.

Jee rose with a start.

Sitting in the window frame was an impossible apparition. A tall man in silvery robes sat perched on the frame, moonlight beaming down around him. He was dressed much like a fire sage, his robes were elaborate, immaculate, in shades of silver and white, a match for his silver hair, pale skin that shone like diamond in the moonlight.

Jee was not the sort that desired men, though he had served with men who did, but even he was struck by the refined beauty of this man. It was otherworldly.

The man cocked his head to the side the way a bird would. "Be not afraid," he said, voice pealing like a bell. It was then that Jee noted the long horn rising from the centre of the man's head, a long spiralling horn of ivory, like that of a narwhal.

"What are you?" Jee asked, his voice thick with fear and wonder.

"Me? I am but a humble ogre, Nanman is my name," the ogre leapt down from his perch, drifted down like a feather on a gentle breeze until he landed in a crouch on the stone floor before the stunned soldier. Nanman smiled, revealing a mouthful of razor sharp fangs, like shark teeth.

"What do you want of me?" Jee demanded, regaining control of his bemused mind.

"A more respectful man might kneel before a spirit," Nanman said in a tone rich with amusement, "But then, you have not been chosen for your manners."

Jee gave a grunt. "Respect is earned, and your manners aren't all that sharp either."

"Point taken," Nanman bowed in a way that left Jee feeling mocked. "You are no doubt reeling from this unexpected visit, take a moment, sit," Nanman sat himself, crossing his legs and leaning back. Even sitting he was still as tall as Jee, possessing a lazy grace that was almost catlike.

Jee wasn't as dumb founded as the ogre believed.

There were two possibilities presented to him. The first, that he was insane. If that was the case there was little he could do about it. His mind told him this was happening, therefore illusion or not, there was no point acting as if it weren't happening. There was no reason to worry either. If he were crazy he would no doubt be subdued eventually, put under Sergeant Zhen's care, assuming he wasn't already.

The second possibility of course was that this was all real. If that was the case then there was every reason to worry, since he had come under the attention of what was clearly a spirit. The tales told of those that came under such attentions rarely ended well for the human involved. Still, it was no reason to panic, since all it did was clarify his course of action.

If it was real then there was only really one option. Do whatever the spirit told him to do.

Jee had no illusions about his fighting ability. Good enough on a battlefield, not quite earth shattering, with a few wins, a few loses in Agni Kai. Ogres were said to kill men by the score, possessing the speed of a tiger, strength of a great ape, the scruples of a blood mad shark. There wasn't a chance this side of Sozin's comet of Jee taking it in a straight up knock down fight.

"Are you ready to know why I'm here?" Nanman asked, still smiling his shark like smile.

Jee's hackles rosed as his decision fell into place. Slowly he sat across from Nanman, as if he were preparing to meditate.

Nanman arched a brow. "No quip Lieutenant? My associates said you weren't the sort to just sit back and take it."

"Cut the crap, just get it over with," Jee replied.

"My my, a temper like that might lead to health troubles. Well anyway, why I'm here. To be frank we are a little short staffed out there you know. The Avatar is supposed to deal with these things but the boy is off gallivanting, caught up in human squabbles, seeing to his secondary duties when more pressing…I digress. We need an agent, one that has stood upon the steps of death, let his life go and accepted the inevitable fate of all creatures, but has yet to succumb to that fate."

Jee jerked his thumb towards the door at his back. "War's going on, I'm pretty sure a lot of people match that description. Pick one of them."

"It is not as common as you might thing, though you are right there are still many that do. What you have that they lack however is a certain experience, of battle, of spirits. You've seen the raw destructive power of an elder spirit, you know the stakes at hand on a personal level."

The final words chilled him. "What do you want?" he asked.

"What do _we_ want," Nanman replied, "We want you to go on a little trip, and wake up an old friend. That is all."

"Who, where and how are the questions that immediately leap to mind," Jee said.

"Where is the catacomb of emerald, how is with a little song you'll learn along the way, who is….well I'd tell you but they didn't really say, just something about a drake." Nanman rose from the floor, smoothing out his robes. "Well I would stay and chat but some unpleasant individuals are about to arrive. They will try to kill you. My advice, don't let them." Nanman clapped Jee on the shoulder, the touch sending a paralysing shock through Jee's body, like a bolt of electricity.

"Good luck, fate of the world and all that. Be seeing you." Nanman leapt backward casually, landed nimbly on the windowsill high on the far wall. He bowed to Jee with that sharklike smile on his face before disappearing out of view, the windows closing behind him.

Jee just looked at the window with a deep frown etched into his face. The information had been useless, he had no idea what he had to do. With no other course of action Jee returned to his pallet. A knock came on his door.

"Who is it?" he called.

There was no reply. Someone knocked on his door again, harder this time.

"Who is it?" he asked again, anger burning in his chest.

Again there was no reply. This time something slammed against the door, hard enough to shake the hinges. The slamming continued, growing in intensity, whoever it was must have a battering ram. A dent began to form on his side of the door. Jee looked to the window, considered fleeing. A thought stopped him.

Someone might be waiting for him beyond the window, an ambush. He would be dead before he hit the ground.

He looked back to the door, the hinges were beginning to come loose with a metallic screech. He got to his feet, lifted his pallet before him like a shield. The door came off its hinges, slamming to the ground with a deafening crash.

What stood in the doorway would have defied explanation a week ago. It was as large across as a komodo rhino, swathed in thick shadows that seemed to wrap its frame like thick tendrils. Its eyes were a pair of burning red orbs in a shapeless face. Jee knew what it was in an instant, a spirit.

It took a step across the threshold. Jee kicked his pallet into its face, a burst of flame exploding from his foot, striking the thick cloth, igniting it in an instant. The burning blankets tangled its feet, covered its face. The creature stumbled about blindly as the flames grew. It swiped out with a large paw like hand, scarcely missing Jee's head.

Jee ran around the large spirit as easily as if it were a stumbling child, making it out the door before it could regain its bearings.

The spirit had not come alone.

Two others stood in the hallway. One was the size of a child, but covered in thick red skin like a toad's, with bulging eyes and long ape like arms. Its partner was a tall man with a long bulbous nose, raven wings spread out behind him. His face was either blue or painted blue, with long silver hair that trailed down to his waist.

Jee spun on his heel and ran the other way.

"After him!" he heard one of them yell in a deep masculine voice.

Their foot beats echoed down the long metal corridor, the chase was on.


End file.
